


Eat the World Raw

by pineapplebreads



Series: Postbellum [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Gratuitous Smut, Jewelry, Lingerie, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Prosthetics, Tattoo AU, Tattoos, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:48:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23637817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pineapplebreads/pseuds/pineapplebreads
Summary: On some nights, Tony finds it very hard to keep his hands off of his husband for even a single second. It's not his fault those nights are usually the ones when Steve is dressed in gala finery from head to toe.Part of theTattoo AU.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: Postbellum [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1825054
Comments: 54
Kudos: 499





	Eat the World Raw

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a coda, and part of the Tattoo AU I've been developing, specifically based on [these images](https://pineapplebread.tumblr.com/post/615105248885948416/krzyktty101-pineapplebread-i-really-really). 
> 
> In this AU, Tony survives Endgame at the cost of his right arm, his right eye, and a lot of scarring. He and Steve get together after his marriage with Pepper falls apart, and they've retired from the Avengers, but Tony is still working at Stark Industries. You can read more about the AU [here](https://pineapplebread.tumblr.com/tagged/tattoo-au-headcanons), and why they have tattoos [here](https://pineapplebread.tumblr.com/post/186615399923/tattoo-au-before-steve-enlisted-in-the-army-he).

"Why me?"  
"Because you're the reason."  
-  
We sat like that a moment, hands touching. He grinned.  
"I feel like I could eat the world raw.”

— Madeline Miller, _The Song of Achilles_

... 

Tony hums quietly to himself as he stands at his vanity, pulling out drawer after drawer of neatly organized trays. He taps at his chin thoughtfully as he browses his collection, running gentle fingers along each watch face as he thinks. 

No on the Audemars tonight, too gaudy. No on the Chopard, too flashy. The Patek Philippe isn’t quite right with the jacket and turtleneck either. His eyes linger on the Jaeger Rendez-Vous Celestial Steve got him for his birthday the year before and dismisses that too. The new unreleased Stark Watch prototype? His lips quirk in one corner. Pepper would kill him. Maybe no watch at all for the night. 

He slides the watch drawer shut and turns his focus to his collection of cufflinks, making a quick choice of a simple pair made of black rhodium before he can overthink that too. He’s fastening them when his eyes fall on a burgundy leather box tucked in the corner of the drawer and he remembers the bangle inside. Perfect.

“Hey honeybun,” Tony calls out as he lifts the lid of the box. “Please come help me with my bracelet— _oh_.”

Tony’s words die on his tongue as he turns around to the vision of Steve as he steps out of their bathroom in a cloud of billowing steam. He drags his eyes along the very tall and very broad length of his husband, savoring the sight of a smiling half-ready Steve that knocks the breath from his lungs. 

Steve’s hair is pomaded into a soft wave of sunspun gold he’s neatly slicked back, but he’s still barefoot with his shirt open and pants untucked. Tony steps into the circle of Steve’s embrace when he opens his arms for him and runs a hungry palm down the planes of his husband’s chest, greedy for the miles of skin. His fingers trace along the ink he finds there, the black lines circling the sacred heart—Tony’s heart inked right over Steve's sternum, and the TS next to it. 

That will never not take Tony's breath away, to see his claim on Steve’s skin in red and black and gold and unfading permanence. Steve is beautiful like this, pale skin colored with Tony’s mark, and Tony is reminded again of the surprise and flare of dark obsession he’d felt when he first saw Steve’s tattoos for him. His fingers find their way along the ladder of Steve’s ribs and further up to ghost the edge of his nail against a pierced nipple and Tony shivers together with Steve as they close the space between them. 

“Hey, hot stuff,” Tony says quietly.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Steve says, voice low and rough.

The first press of lips is soft like a sigh hello, and it’s ridiculous. Tony shouldn't _miss_ Steve, they’ve been together all day, but the ache of being even an inch from his husband is too much to bear sometimes. Every kiss feels like coming home, warm and honey sweet, made new with every second they’re not pressed together as two halves of a whole. If Steve’s soft exhale is any indication, Tony knows he feels the same way too. It’s taken them over a decade to be here in this moment, and every second together is hard fought and earned in blood and war. But no time to be maudlin now. 

“Please, darling?” Tony says as the kiss ends. They stay close, still breathing the same air. 

“Hmmm?” Steve shakes his head slightly as though dazed and his eyes are heated and gaze locked to Tony’s mouth. 

Tony can’t help the quiet laugh that escapes. He holds up the two halves of the Cartier in his hand and the little gold screwdriver alongside them. “Help,” Tony pouts.

If their kiss is a greeting, being pressed against Steve as he takes Tony's hand in his large palm to fit the two halves of the gold bangle over his wrist together is a new intimacy. Steve had gifted Tony this bracelet for their first anniversary years ago, a romantic mark Tony would happily wear for all the world to see and never remove if not for his dangerous lab work. Such as it is, it’s a treat to hand over the little screwdriver and put his trust and his love in Steve’s hands, where he knows they’ll be cradled and shielded, cherished and protected. Steve makes quick work of the tiny screws that hold the two halves of the bangle together. The gold gleams on Tony’s wrist, a shout of their commitment, of how Tony belongs to Steve, if anyone happens to miss the diamond and gold on his finger. 

Tony smiles down at his arm as Steve’s broad thumb strokes along the bone at his wrist and lifts his hand to press a kiss to the back of it. He raises Tony’s other hand, the metal one, and kisses the alloy knuckles too. Tony is so grateful for the new implant that allows him to feel that soft touch in his prosthetic, but before Tony has the chance to pull him in for another, real kiss that will most definitely make them late, Steve laughs and steps away. 

“Later, sweetheart,” Steve says and ignores Tony’s pout. “Pepper will murder us if we miss another gala.”

Tony sniffs. “What’s the point of us even going? I can just sign the donation check at home.”

Steve shakes his head, but he’s smiling when he says, “you know why. Appearances and all of that good stuff. We have no excuses to not go. You need to get ready,” he says, eying Tony's disheveled hair critically. 

Tony scoffs in mock outrage. “This is _the_ style,” he tells Steve imperiously. “It’s called artfully tousled. One of the children told me,” he says but quiets under Steve’s gentle hands as he gently finger combs Tony’s unruly locks into some semblance of order. 

“You’re beautiful either way, darling,” Steve says, eyes soft. 

“Flatterer,” Tony mutters, unable to help the smile that tugs at his lips. 

“It’s true,” Steve says lightly. “You’re always beautiful.”

Tony doesn’t let him get away this time. He raises his arms to loop them around Steve’s neck, drawing him in for another kiss. He coaxes Steve to deepen the kiss with little nips until his husband concedes with a sharp intake of breath, and their tongues are sliding together as Tony presses in closer. Steve’s hands tighten their grip at his waist, thumbs stroking along the dip of his back where his own ink and Steve’s stamp sits on his skin below the layers of his suit, and Tony burns with the need for _more_. 

But—gala. They have an event they must attend in a little under an hour. Tony reluctantly pulls away. 

“Not beautiful. Captain America is a liar,” Tony breathes against Steve’s lips. 

“I will not have Iron Man disparage my gorgeous husband like this,” Steve replies with a smirk, his fingers lightly pinching at Tony’s side. 

“Captain America is also an ass,” Tony says. 

Steve laughs and steps back. Tony immediately wants to reach up again and draw him in again but Steve is already moving away to his side of the closet. Tony watches the long strides as Steve walks up to his rack of tuxes, carefully pulling a black velvet number off the hanger before going to the other end of the room with his jacket in one hand and shoes in the other. Tony eyes the red bottoms hanging off his finger with no small amount of happiness. Steve has come a long way from ill fitting suits off the sale rack and brandless dress shoes to bespoke Faragamo and Louboutin. Tony is very proud of him. 

“Finish getting dressed,” Steve tosses over his shoulder as he turns to face the mirror. Tony watches him from the other side of the closet as Steve dresses, making no moves to finish getting ready.

Tony does not usually consider himself a jealous or possessive man, but watching Steve dress in velvet and silk _does something to him_. Maybe it’s the finery. Maybe it’s just Steve. But there’s a part of Tony that is one half burning obsession and one half breathless wonder he feels for his husband, a hunger and a love he feels is too big to contain on most days, and he aches with the need to be as close as possible. He thinks if he could, he would open the spines of his own rib cage to fit Steve in the hollow of his chest right next to his heart where his arc reactor had once nestled, where he’ll be kept safe and warm. 

A low simmering hunger claws at his belly, the feral side of him that only Steve can bring out coming to the surface as he watches his husband dress in the mirror. The gala tonight is important, but all priorities suddenly disappear when Steve looks so resplendent in his finery, all dark velvet and silk and gold. 

Tony tangles his hand in the dog tags hanging from his neck as he watches, and he has a hitch in his breath by the time Steve buttons his shirt all the way up his chest, closing over the ink on his chest (his _name_ is there, TS for Tony Stark, the letters proudly worn by his husband). The buttons on the shirt go all the way up to his throat and cover the sacred heart that belongs to Tony too. 

Steve shrugs his dinner jacket on top, Tony watching unblinkingly as the fabric stretches around Steve’s thick arms and chest. Large palms smoothe over the front, brushing along the dark velvet as long fingers carefully straighten the pressed lapel. The gold ring shines on Steve’s hand, catching the light. There are the numbers inked on Steve’s knuckles, 2012, the year Steve came out of the ice and into Tony’s life. A lifetime ago now. 

Tony swallows hard, feeling a weighted heaviness that bobs low in his throat and sees Steve in the reflection looking back just as headily, blue eyes dark and sharp. There’s a small smile curving his lips that grows wider as he turns away from the mirror to walk back to their vanity, his long legs moving in slow loping steps, a predator on the prowl. Tony feels pinned, like a prey animal for the taking, but instead of pulling Tony in for deep kisses and forgoing the night’s events for their own night in, Steve reaches around him before stepping away again.

Tony almost whines. Almost.

In his disappointment, Tony barely registers the metal that now gleams on Steve’s wrists until his husband outstretches his hand to beckon him close. 

“Is that—”

“Yeah, sweetheart,” Steve says gently. 

There on Steve’s wrist is his gold T Square bangle, T for Tony, always T for Tony. Above that are familiar bands of alloy that take Tony a moment to recognize, but once he does, all the breath gets knocked from his lungs. He exhales in a sharp gust as he looks at the cuffs that once summoned his Mark VII armor years and years ago gleaming on Steve’s arms. Seeing Steve wear them now closes liquidwarm pressure tight around Tony’s ribs and squeezes around his heart, and he doesn’t think he could love anyone more than he loves his husband in that moment. 

Fuck it, they’re not going _anywhere_ tonight, not if Tony has anything to say about it. 

“Have I told you,” Tony muses, making no secret that he’s drinking in the sight of his husband from head to toe, “that black is most definitely your color?”

Steve’s eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles, and he’s so handsome like this. A vision in black, the only hints of color are the ink tattooed on his hands. Steve raises one questioning brow. “ _Not_ red, white, and blue?”

“Well that too,” Tony says agreeably, reaching up to touch where Steve had fastened his favorite pin on his lapel. A blue hexagonal diamond set in gold, a replica of Tony's arc reactor in miniature. Another mark of his Steve wears proudly. How did Tony get so lucky? 

“You look so beautiful tonight,” Steve says again, curling his fingers tight around Tony's hand. 

“You can have this all to yourself if you’d like,” Tony replies teasingly, stroking his thumb along Steve’s wrist, grazing his pulse. The pads of his fingers brush over the Mark VII cuffs and up inside Steve’s sleeve. 

“We can’t miss another event,” Steve murmurs, even as his hands are sliding up underneath Tony’s suit to grip at his waist. He leans in closer until his nose is pressed to Tony’s cheek, his beard tickling Tony’s chin. “Aren’t you supposed to be giving a keynote speech tonight?”

“I know Pepper has a contingency plan,” Tony replies, his fingers lightly skimming the row of buttons down Steve’s chest. “She knows better than to expect us to show up at events by now.”

“Your ex-wife is going to murder you,” Steve says. “And I’m going to let her.”

“I love it when you talk dirty,” Tony says, and Steve laughs as he finally allows himself to be pulled in for a kiss. And a second. And a third. “We would’ve left early anyways. We hate events like these. As much fun as it is to grope you in public under the table, it’s much more fun when it’s just the two of us at home, don’t you think?”

“I dunno,” Steve says with a crooked smile. “It certainly adds another level of excitement to do it in public, doesn’t it?”

Tony pretends to gasp in shock. “Why, Captain America! That’s positively scandalous!”

“They don’t know the half of it.”

“I can just see the headlines tomorrow. ‘Captain America Gropes Husband at Stark Industries Fundraiser,’” Tony declares with a dramatic wave of his hand.

“The news cycle must be real slow to talk about retirees like us again,” Steve says dryly.

“Then let’s not give them anything to talk about,” Tony says reasonably, resuming his caresses along the line of Steve’s chest. Steve catches his hand before he can start undoing the buttons, but Tony can tell he’s about to give in if the way Steve’s thumb traces the Love bracelet on his wrist is any indication, eyes half lidded and darkly intent. 

“Let’s stay home,” Tony says imploringly, peering up at Steve from beneath his lashes with a pleading expression he knows Steve finds hard to resist. He leans up to steal another kiss before his husband, his better, more responsible half can say no. 

The kiss starts slow and soft before Tony groans as Steve slides his hand into his curls, pulling him closer and they deepen the kiss. Steve’s tongue traces along the seam of Tony’s lips and he opens obediently, gasping softly as their tongues slide together wet and messy. His hand clenches in the fabric at Steve’s chest, and his other raises to trace along Steve’s jaw, the rough hairs of his beard just barely registering with the sensors in his prosthetic. The air between them grows heated and charged, and Tony can feel the warmth pool low in his belly as he presses up against Steve, leaning in until they’re aligned from chest to feet.

Tony barely registers Steve’s hands clenching at his back and sliding down over the curve of his ass, and lower still, until his world tilts. With barely a shift to Steve’s stance, Tony is gathered in his arms with Steve’s hands gripping his thighs and getting carried out of the closet to their bedroom. Steve somehow manages to get them to the other room without breaking their kiss, even as Tony tries his damnedest to distract him with tongue and teeth and little nips to his bottom lip. They don’t make the entire journey to the bed, Steve dropping them in the large armchair by their wall of windows.

Tony pauses momentarily in the kiss to look out over the open skyline where the sun is sinking low behind the high rises in its descent. The sky is already dark and lights are starting to flicker on around the city, New York spread out in an endless map of sprawling lights a hundred floors below them. He sits up a little in Steve’s lap. 

“Right by the windows? Kinky,” Tony says. Steve laughs and pulls him back in.

They get lost in each other, pressed as close to each other as possible in the chair with Tony straddling Steve’s lap as they kiss. Steve’s big hands are already sliding underneath Tony’s jacket, brushing up the back of his sweater and pulling the hem from his pants to reach skin. The first touch of Steve’s palms against his sides sends a full body shiver down Tony’s spine and heats him to the core. Steve’s touch is reverent where he runs gentle fingers along his ribs, careful along Tony’s right side where his scars are raised and red and sensitive, heavy keloid ropes he’s still self conscious of on the bad days. But Steve’s touch always burns him from the inside out warm and slow, and he can’t help but feel whole in his embrace.

Tony gives as good as he gets, his hands already at work with Steve’s fly. He can feel where Steve is already hard against his thigh, and he presses his palm down against him as they kiss. When he finally gets Steve’s pants open, he’s drawing his cock out to stroke along the length just as Steve’s hand reaches his nipple and pinches them between his thumb and forefinger. Tony moans low in his throat and has to draw away from their kiss just to breathe, his heart working overtime in erratic stuttering beats.

“I wanna suck you off,” Tony murmurs where he’s panting against Steve’s cheek. He can feel the shivering response before Steve tips his head back against the chair with a loud groan. “Let me, let me, let me,” Tony begs, his mouth feeling swollen ripe. 

“Okay,” Steve says breathlessly. “Yeah, _fuck_ , sweetheart.”

“In a bit,” Tony promises as he slides off of Steve’s lap to kneel at his feet. He looks up at Steve from beneath his lashes as he settles on his knees, knowing what that look does to his husband. Steve stares down at him with his lips slightly agape. There’s a wondrous look in his eyes as he slides gentle fingers back through Tony’s curls, a guiding undemanding touch. Tony starts to remove his glasses when the grip in his hair tightens slightly.

“Leave ‘em on, baby,” Steve says, slackening his hand again to rub gentle circles along the base of Tony’s neck. Every so often, his fingers catch against the chain Tony wears with Steve’s dog tags. 

Tony grins as he leans in to mouth along the length of Steve’s cock. He lightly nips at the skin as he strokes the head lightly with his hand, trailing a wet path down to the base. He licks back up to suck at the head, pressing his tongue against the underside as Steve moans and his hand in Tony's hair tightens slightly. 

Tony takes mercy on him and moves down to take more of Steve’s cock in his mouth, swallowing down as much of the considerable length as he’s able until it presses snug against the back of his throat. He’s not sure if the next moan is from himself or from Steve whose head is tossed back against the chair, broad chest heaving with heavy breaths. 

Tony can tell Steve is barely restraining himself from thrusting up sharply into the heat of his mouth. He starts bobbing his head along the length of Steve’s cock, swallowing and sucking hard with each slide down, his hand wrapping around what he can’t fit in his mouth. He can feel his swollen lips stretched obscenely wide around Steve, and he looks up at his husband through his damp lashes and the fogged lenses of his glasses to see Steve watching him. The blue of his eyes are a thin ring around his wide black pupils. 

Tony stares back as he swallows slowly, feeling the jerk of Steve’s cock at the back of his throat as the bitter taste of precome coats his tongue. Soon after, there’s a warning tug in his hair, and before he can stubbornly grip at Steve’s knees to stop him, he’s getting pulled off of Steve’s dick and back into his lap. 

“Wanna come inside you,” Steve rasps, sounding wrecked, even though Tony’s the one who still feels the stretch of Steve’s cock in the crick of his jaw. 

Steve’s hands are frantically pushing the jacket from Tony’s shoulders and he hurries to help him. Next goes the turtleneck and Tony’s belt. They get flung unceremoniously to the side of the chair as they both get to work on his pants. Those get pushed down too, and Tony has to momentarily leave Steve’s lap to get them off. 

There’s a sharp inhalation from Steve as Tony resettles on top of him and his hands immediately fly to the crest of Tonys hips. His thumbs make slow circles against the slip of silky fabric he finds there. When he looks up to meet Tony's grin, Tony can see the flame in Steve’s eyes burning out the blue irises. 

“You like ‘em?” Tony asks, wriggling slightly in Steve’s lap. 

Steve looks dazed as his eyes flick from Tony’s face and down to his tags hanging around Tony’s neck resting on his chest and down again to the panties he’s wearing, black silk and lace stretched obscenely over his erection. Steve doesn’t answer for a long moment, simply touching and running his hands along the thin lace band sitting on the crest of Tony’s hips and following the pads of his fingers over the cut of the panties on the curve of his ass, and further back to where they disappear as a strip between his cheeks. 

“Are you doing this to torture me?” Steve asks, his eyes flicking up to Tony’s face again. His voice is gravel rough and his grip on Tony’s ass tightens. 

Tony laughs. “Me torturing you would be letting you know I’m wearing these _during_ the gala. Good thing we’re not going anymore.”

“So the answer is yes. Where’d you get them?”

“Pepper told me they would help smooth out the line of my pants.”

“Should I be concerned your ex-wife is teaching you to wear panties?”

“Jealous?”

Steve hums quietly. “No,” he decides. “Actually, I’m going to write her a thank you card,” he says before pulling Tony back in for another kiss that makes his toes curl. 

“Please, Steve, _please_ ,” Tony babbles against his husband’s lips, unsure of what he’s begging for anymore. 

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” Steve murmurs, dipping his head to mouth along the column of Tony’s throat, his beard tickling the sensitive skin of Tony’s neck. He sucks gently at his collarbone, tongue sweeping along the numbers Tony has inked there, commemorating all the places where he’d been reborn before kissing the scars he finds at the shoulder joint as skin gives way to body warmed alloy. 

Of course Steve has got him, he always does. He always takes such good care of Tony. Steve who is so tender and gentle and loving as he worships every inch of Tony’s old and scarred body, reminding him these scars were the price of saving the universe, Steve is so proud of him, he always will be, he loves him so much. 

Tony’s heart is full to bursting by the time Steve is stripping quickly out of his own suit, letting the velvet and silk fall from his shoulders to be cast carelessly to the side, joining the growing pile of clothes. And finally, finally, Tony can run greedy hands over the illustrated skin of his husband, tracing along the birds captured mid flight at his throat, down to the roses blooming on his shoulder, to the letters TS on his sternum. To the radiant heart that belongs to Tony, and the very real beating one beneath the inked skin that belongs to him too. Tony pinches at Steve’s nipples, his fingers tugging at the barbell in one of them before sweeping his palms down the stretch of Steve’s arms curled around him. He reaches back to touch the Mark VII bracelets still circling Steve’s wrists. 

Tony barely notices the familiar cap click of the lube Steve magicked from one of their many stashes hidden around their room, still entranced with Steve’s chest when he feels slick fingers circling his entrance. He arches nearly off Steve’s lap as one hand pushes aside the tiny swatch of his panties to find him and slowly presses a finger inside, two knuckles deep. 

“Oh fuck,” Tony moans, catching Steve’s lips in another searing kiss as second finger joins the first inside him. They move in slow shallow thrusts, stoking the flame at Tony’s core, and he needs _more_. His hands scrabble for purchase along the wide breadth of Steve’s shoulders as he fucks Tony with his fingers, careful as always to stretch him enough to take his cock. 

“I’m good, I’m good,” Tony rasps, desperate and overheated and greedy. “I can take it. Steve, _please_ —”

Steve ignores him and adds a third finger, thrusting them slowly in and out of Tony as his other hand supports Tony’s back. He dips his head further to lave his tongue around one of Tony’s nipples, adding a hint of teeth as he licks the little bud to hardness before doing the same to the other side. Tony feels overwhelmed on sensation as he’s torn between rocking back on Steve’s fingers in his ass and Steve’s tongue on his chest. He reaches down to stroke his neglected cock, the touch taking a little bit of the edge off but he gasps when Steve’s fingers graze against the spot inside of him that starbursts his vision white. Everything is too much and not quite enough. 

It feels like an eternity before Steve withdraws his fingers and Tony is whimpering at the loss. He’s too empty, he needs Steve. 

His husband shushes him gently. There’s the rustle of fabric as Steve quickly shucks his pants and in lieu of Tony having to climb off his lap again, Steve simply rips the panties off. Before Tony can form the words to complain, the slick head of Steve’s cock is pressing at his entrance, and he sighs with relief as Steve finally, finally slides home inside him. 

The first thrust always feels like too much as Steve’s dick stretches him wide. Tony moves his hand away from his own cock and reaches back to where his rim is open around Steve, feeling desperate to touch where they’re joined. Steve is barely halfway inside of him, going slow and gentle as always, but Tony has had enough. He sinks greedily down the rest of Steve’s length even as Steve’s hands tighten to bruising around his hips, and pulls him in for a wet and messy kiss. 

Tony doesn’t give himself time to adjust as he thrusts all the way down to take all of Steve’s cock, moving immediately. He bounces up and down on Steve’s dick without any real semblance of rhythm, his gasps and whimpers swallowed by Steve’s kisses. Tony is fueled by the blaze of desperation that burns deep in his chest when he’s this close to Steve, and he still wants _more_. He only pauses when Steve gently stills him with another soft kiss and a low murmur of, “ _sweetheart_ , let me.” 

After that, with Steve’s hands at his waist gently guiding Tony, they settle into a slow rhythm that slowly stokes the burning blaze between them. Tony bears down on Steve’s cock as Steve thrusts up into him, grazing against that starburst spot with each stroke. Tony can feel the pleasure building even without touching his own cock as he clenches around Steve’s dick, the weight of it heavy inside of him, filling him so full he can feel Steve _everywhere_. 

Steve’s thumbs are sweeping along the skin at the dip of Tony’s back. Tony knows he’s tracing the tattoo there. The words “Property of SR” that were once a joke are now Steve’s favorite tattoo on Tony’s body, one he appreciates thoroughly at least once a week when he has Tony spread open on their sheets as he slowly eats him out until Tony is a whimpering babbling mess. Now, he traces over the letters blindly, the blunt of his nails scraping against the sensitive skin of Tony’s lower back, drawing raspy moans from his throat as Steve thrusts up into him again and again. 

“Steve, Steve, _Steve—_ ” is all Tony knows how to say. He can feel the hot pinprick of wetness prickling in his eyes as tears gather in the sweep of his lashes. He’s so full of Steve in every way, and he wants desperately to be like this forever. 

“Tony, Tony, _Tony_ ,” Steve echoes in stuttering gasps, sounding ruined and wrecked and all _his_. 

Tony comes first with Steve’s tongue in his mouth and his hand stroking his dick. After Tony comes clenching tight around him, Steve’s thrusts grow erratic as he chases his own orgasm, Tony coaxing him along with breathy encouragement whispered against his ear. 

“Yeah honey, fill me up. I love how your big cock feels inside me. I’ve never been so full before. You always— _ah_ —feel so good. _Fuck_ , c’mon Steve, I love seeing you like this. Covered with my name and wearing my armor. I want the whole world to see you like this, how you belong to me—ah, right there—just as I belong to you. _Fuck_ , Steve, I love you so much,” and that’s what finally pushes him over the edge. 

Steve comes with a loud cry, and his eyes are wet when he pulls Tony in for another kiss and gasps, “I love you, I love you, I love you so fucking much, sweetheart,” against Tony’s lips. 

Afterwards when they’re laying in bed after Steve licks the come out of Tony before filling him again, Tony rolls over to lay on Steve’s chest. He smiles warmly at his husband, but completely ruins the soft moment when he says, “you liked the panties.”

Steve chuckles and kisses his nose. “You’re a menace,” he replies, but his hand is smoothing slow circles on the swell of Tony’s ass. 

“That’s not a no,” Tony points out. He leans in closer and lowers his voice to a gravel pitch. “How about a full set next time? A little bra with panties? Translucent lace. All black. Maybe heels? Maybe some lipstick that’ll get smeared all over your dick when I suck you off. You can fuck me on my hands and knees with the bra and panties on, so you can see your mark above my ass as you fuck me open—”

“Good lord, have mercy on me,” Steve gasps, pinching Tony lightly and kissing him to stop him from torturing him more. 

“So how about round three?” Tony says when they part, his voice slightly breathless. He leans down to scrape his teeth along the column of Steve’s neck. His hand is already reaching down to press against Steve’s growing erection. 

“Give me a minute,” Steve laughs, equally breathless as he throws an arm over his eyes.

“Hey, what happened to ‘I can do this all day’?”

“I’m not young anymore.”

“You’re still pretty spry for a hundred and eleven,” Tony says with a slow smirk. “You never did tell me your secret. It’s pilates, isn’t it?”

Before Steve can reply, the shrill ding of an incoming message distracts Tony. Pepper must be very angry if she went through FRIDAY to bypass his dark mode to reach him. He leans over to dig through their pile of clothes for his phone while Steve tries to keep him from falling off their bed, letting out a tiny cheer when he finds the device. 

Tony settles back on Steve’s chest with phone in hand as he flicks through his notifications. Tony feels slightly guilty when he sees the thirty missed texts from Pepper and Rhodey that go from annoyed to angry to exasperated to resigned, but it’s too far into the night to even make a very late entrance to the gala. Besides, it’s hard to feel too badly about missing the evening when his husband is laying in bed with him and his skin is tingling in all the places where Steve had pressed soft kisses. He’ll make it up to them another time. He tosses the phone aside and turns back to Steve. 

“Okay, how about now? Round three.”

“You’re a menace,” Steve repeats, rolling them over to pin Tony underneath him, his hand catching Tony’s to push it down on the pillow above his head. Their cuffs clink together as Steve leans down for a kiss. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit me on [Tumblr (pineapplebread)](http://pineapplebread.tumblr.com) and [Twitter (@pineapplebreads)](https://twitter.com/pineapplebreads)!


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